


I Like (The Idea Of) You.

by gdragonsideburns



Category: BIGBANG - Fandom, Big Bang (Band), GTOP (Band)
Genre: Fairy, Fantasy, GTOP, M/M, sfw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28442766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gdragonsideburns/pseuds/gdragonsideburns
Summary: Jiyong was a fairy. Albeit, a small one. Standing at just five inches and five millimetres, he had no hope of reaching the top shelf alone. Luckily for him, he lived on the outskirts of a field, not in a kitchen. His diet consisted of sweetberries and rainwater. He didn’t need anything else to survive. It should be enough. It was enough. Except it couldn't curb his curiousity. Humans. They were fascinating to him. His mum used to tell him his obsession would get him killed one day. He’d never believed her. Until the last time he snuck into the farmer's house he almost got killed. Like really killed. Not just scared.
Relationships: Choi Seunghyun | T.O.P./Kwon Jiyong | G-Dragon
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	1. I’ve got a radar for trouble

**Author's Note:**

> un-beta'd, please point out typos! crossed posted on aff under same UN,  
> comments/reviews/constructive(!) criticism is very much appreciated and encouraged !! :****

Jiyong was a fairy. Albeit, a small one. Standing at just five inches and five millimetres, he had no hope of reaching the top shelf alone. Luckily for him, he lived on the outskirts of a field, not in a kitchen. Two fields across from the sheep, and on the opposite side of the farm from the crop fields- to avoid the terrifying birds that liked to chase him while he screamed and fled and totally did _not_ pee himself thank you very much. He just,,, happened to run through a particularly deep puddle whilst escaping certain doom. 

His home was located in the hedge just left of the holly bush- he tried living in the holly bush for security, but the leaves' sharp edges kept ripping his clothes and he couldn’t keep repairing them! If he had to sew one more shirt back together he’d be out of fabric, which meant a treacherous trip into the farmers house. Plus, there’s only so much patchwork a fairy can pull off before it stops being a fashion statement and starts being a tragedy. Jiyong shuddered. The last time he snuck into the farmer's house he almost got killed. Like really _killed_. Not just scared.

 _Technically_ , it was Jiyong’s own fault. His mother had warned him before that the house was dangerous, and he’d been going in for stupid reasons. Not for essentials like spare fabric for the winter cold, or those little wooden posts the farmer kept in a jar on the table so he didn’t have to keep snapping and debarking branches himself. He had so many callouses already. He didn’t need anymore just because he wanted a dining table that matched his chairs, or a bed that didn’t stab him in the back with its twists and bumps. No, Jiyong had been making regular trips into the house for one thing and one thing only. Food. _Human_ food. Now, that may seem like an essential, but Jiyong was a _fairy_. Not a human. His diet consisted of sweetberries and rainwater. He didn’t need anything else to survive. It should be enough. It was enough. 

Until Jiyong managed to climb the table cloth after the farmer fell asleep at his chair, the dark liquid in his glass spilt in a bloody halo around his greasy pink hair. He was slumped over at the table. His lax hand pushing the cloth away from him, closer to the floor. Close enough Jiyong could grab it if he jumped. He had only climbed up there for the wooden posts; he just _knew_ they would make a sturdy, comfortable bed frame for his leaves and blankets. However, he’d never been this close to a human before. 

The man’s face was lax, his mouth open and drooling onto the table. It was disgusting. Yet, Jiyong couldn’t stop himself as he sidled closer. His skin was paler than Jiyongs own, but still tanned dark from the field work. His eyelashes were a dark fan underneath his strong brow, his cheekbones cut shape into his face and his nose sloped gently into a sharp cupid’s bow, lips curving upwards even in his sleep. Jiyong touched his hands to his own plump, rounded cheeks and full lips. He reached out slowly, fingers shaking, wanting to feel the difference between them. The farmer’s fingers twitched as he huffed out a breath. Jiyong jumped and skittered back. What was he thinking? He could get caught so easily up here. He needed to get the posts and then go. 

He was slinking his way round to the little pot they were kept in when something caught his eye. A bowl, with what looked like muddy water and vegetables in it. He hesitated, glancing at the farmer, who was still passed out. Just once. It wouldn’t hurt if it was just once. He wanted- no, _needed_ to try it. The bowl was warm to his touch, and at just the right height for Jiyong to lean over and slurp from it if he stood on his tippy toes. It was delicious. His cheeks got coated in the substance instantly, the collar of his shirt was soaked through with it. He didn’t care. How had he spent his whole life without this? He leaned in further, inhaling the liquid. What he didn’t account for though, was that the edges of the bowl, so smooth and beautiful, would make for poor grip. Jiyong let out a piercing shriek as the weight of his backpack slipped up his back and tipped him forwards head over heels into the bowl. Great. Now he was smothered in whatever delicious substance the bowl contained.

Jiyong heard a grumble. **Oh no.** The human. He spun round in the bowl too fast, his feet abandoned him and he slipped back down with a splash and a gulp. _What_? The substance was delicious and he was already face down in it. If he was going to die, he was going to die with a belly full of deliciousness. He picked himself up and scrambled over the side of the bowl, running to the edge of the table as fast as he could. He stole one last glance behind him before he slid off down the table cloth, just to see if he’d been spotted. He couldn’t not. Humans. They were _fascinating_ to him. His mum used to tell him his obsession would get him killed one day. He’d never believed her, not even now, while the farmer stared at him covered in human food gripping the edge of the table tightly, looking confused and sleepy. Jiyong froze, clinging to the table edge as the farmer rubbed his eyes and squinted. His iced muscles spurred back into motion when the human let out a piercing shriek, ‘RAT!!!’ and swung his open palm down directly towards Jiyong. 

Jiyong huffed out a sigh and leaned back in his uncomfortable bed. The stars were out, yet he couldn’t find the motivation to climb the hedge. The view from the top was truly magnificent, but he’d been too afraid to exist in the open since his last trip into the house. He’d gone back, after the ‘Bowl Incident’ as he’d dubbed it. Everything had been fine. He’d stuck to the walls and crevices, only making these daring trips under the guise of night. It made it harder to locate the things he needed, but he could usually rely on his nose to find any food that had been left out. Unfortunately, he’d gotten too bold, making too many trips in a short time. When he last visited the house, in the dead of night, he took his usual route. Climb the ivy, squeeze in through the crack in the window, move carefully along the counter without falling in the big metal tub, and use the roll of soft paper to get to the ground. 

This time, however, when he touched down on the floor, there was food waiting for him. Just sat right there, out in the open. On a weird, tiny wooden table. His heart had swelled. Thinking the human knew he existed, and wanted him around. He’d heard stories of that, humans leaving food for fairies in exchange for favours and magic. He’d started forward in excitement when his mother’s words about humans being dangerous rang in his head. The table did look weird. Why did it have a large metal bar? Jiyong unstrapped the wooden post from his bag and gave the table a wack on its edge. Nothing. He squinted suspiciously and tried to quell the growing excitement in his stomach. He smacked the table again, directly on its surface this time. The metal bar swung down with a whoosh and a clang. Jiyong screamed. The wall crashed into his back. His post was splintered all over the floor. He pressed his shaking hands tightly over his mouth in attempts to stifle his desperate sobs. If he had taken the food… he would have been maimed, at best. His mum was right. Humans are dangerous, and he was a fool for believing otherwise. When the strength came back to his trembling legs, Jiyong hoisted himself back up the soft paper and didn’t even stop to roll it back up before he escaped out the window and down the ivy.

Jiyong blinked and brushed the tears off his face with trembling hands. Focusing on what happened isn’t going to make him feel any better. He should go watch the stars. It was a tradition with his mum. Right before it got too cold to leave the bush, the night before they would create their insulated nest for the cold winter months, they would climb the hedge and watch the night stroll slowly past them. He gathered up his favourite blanket and slung it around his neck, ready to make the climb. The branches were cold under his tight grip, dampened and icy with the evening dew. He pulled through them quickly, the movements familiar, until he broke through the sparse foliage at the top. 

He unwrapped his blanket around his shoulders and settled in against a naked branch from the holly bush. The sky was vast and expansive. He felt tiny under its black mass. The usual comfort he derived from the twinkling stars was gone. His mother had left for the court over a year ago. This was the second time in three hundred and twenty years he was up here without her. Only this time he was truly alone. He couldn’t even lie to himself and find company in the farmer anymore. He brushed his mousy brown hair off his forehead. His mother usually trimmed it for him, but it had grown long since he was alone. He stared up into the sky, sight lost to the black abyss. The wonders of the world were foreign to him now. This was pointless. It was only making him feel worse. 

He hastily pulled his blanket around his neck again, freezing when he heard it catch and rip. _No_. No, no, no. He swung round and stared desperately at the large tear. Not this too. Everyone had left him and now his favourite blanket was gone too. He didn’t have any more fabric to repair it. The cold was going to set in fast. He needed this blanket for warmth. Jiyong was going to have to go back into the house. He was going to walk straight into his death. He pulled in a shuddering, stuttered breath, choking on sobs, before crumpling and letting out a piercing wail.

The window was heavy and cut into Jiyong’s slender hands. Of course his trip into impending doom couldn’t be easy. The window had been pulled closer to the house than usual, presumably because of the cold. He grunted, throwing his weight back hoping to shift the window. It scraped open wide enough for him to squeeze in. He scrambled down the ledge and crept around the sink. Eyes peeled back into his skull, Jiyong snapped his head side to side, checking for the human. Or more of those terrifying metal-wood torture traps. His hands shook the entire trip down to the floor. He sprinted across to the nearby hallway, pressing himself against the wall in order to sneak a peek round the corner. The human wasn’t there. It was very unlikely that he would have been up at this time. Jiyong having chosen the middle of the night to make the treacherous trip. Rather than late evenings like he used to, when he was dumb and reckless and not afraid of humans. 

It was easy to pull himself under the doorway leading into the human’s bedroom. Seeing the large lump curled up on the bed, it was hard to equate the softly snoring man with the murderer who tried to squash him and left secret death traps on the floor. He looked peaceful and gentle sleeping. Jiyong wanted to climb the bedsheets and steal some of the warmth that was trapped beneath all those blankets. ‘ _No_. Jiyong, you’re here on a mission.’ He reminded himself. 

The large wooden box was always hard to open. It wasn’t as stiff as the window when it was closed, but it was so huge, jutting out for miles above him, that it took all of Jiyong’s running strength with his grapple (fashioned from an old kirby and tooth floss) to pull it open far enough that it wouldn’t slam shut again instantly. Once he was inside it took Jiyong a short time to find a suitable shirt that had fallen from it’s hanger. He squatted and carefully unsheathed the razorblade from his bag. It was almost the size of his torso, and by far the most dangerous item he had found in the house, but also his most valuable. He made quick work of cutting fabric from the places most likely to wear on the shirt. Less suspicious this way. 

He’s re-wrapping the blade when he hears the unmistakable grumble and creak of a disgruntled person waking in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. Jiyong waits until he’s certain the human has left the room before he creeps out into the open. He needs to move quickly and stealthily. Who knows how long it’ll take the human to fall asleep again. Sometimes it takes Jiyong himself hours when he wakes in the middle of the night. He makes it to the kitchen safely before he realises he’s screwed. The human was leaning over the big metal bowl, one hand pressed flat against the wall, the other pulling the window shut and locking it in a clumsy movement. He was clearly still asleep, having only woken from the cold, but that didn’t stop Jiyong’s heart plunging into his stomach. 

The human may be too asleep to notice him now, but his escape window, his _literal_ escape window had just literally been closed. He was stuck in the house of a bloodthirsty creature that wanted him dead. The human pulled back from the window lethargically. Jiyong jumped and skittered into motion down a crevice, careful to avoid the snapping death machine wedged into the corner. He listened to the human pour himself a glass of water and slump back down the hallway before he relaxed. He slid down the wall and clasped his hands together against his forehead as the tears started to slip down his face. How did he get here? 

Jiyong learned to live secretly, watching and waiting for when the human would open the window again. Any window, or even the door. Jiyong would risk running out the front door under the farmer’s feet at this point. He smelled bad. No matter how much he tried to keep himself clean using the big metal tub that the human washed his dishes in, he still couldn’t wash his clothes, because there was nowhere safe to hang them. And the crevices he was living in weren’t exactly commercially clean. Plus, what if he was caught while waiting for them to dry? It doesn't seem very dignified to die terrified and naked. 

He’d spent the better part of his week eating crumbs off the floor before he realised he could set off the snapping traps using the posts from the table and then steal the food. He classed it as stealing because it was clear he wasn’t supposed to get the food. He was supposed to die. Be murdered and thrown out with the trash. Which was why it’s so important he escaped soon. The warmth of the house could only suppress his natural instinct to hibernate so much. He was finding waking up harder and harder every day. If he didn’t escape soon, he was going to have to find a warm crevice to hide in and pray he wasn’t found. In other words, Jiyong was _screwed_.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks and Jiyong was now only able to stay awake for four or so hours a day. He’d been hiding under the kitchen cabinet. There was about two or three inches of space right at the back that he could crawl into and lie in. It was disgusting, but at least he could sleep without worrying about being found. It was freezing under the cabinets but he had managed to grab some of the soft paper during the night and had made a makeshift futon to try and keep some distance between himself and the muck. He was covered head to toe in dust either way, but at least this way his skin didn’t crawl when he lay down. 

His head was foggy, nose stuffy, and his chest rattled when he breathed. He wouldn’t survive a full winter here. It was too cold and he was already getting sick. Breathing was even harder than usual when he woke up late in the evening. He coughed, chest and throat burning. The air tasted _foul_. He coughed again and tried to stifle the loud sound. Why was it so hard to breathe? The realisation hit Jiyong like a bolt of lightning; the farmer was smoking one of those nasty sticks. Jiyong had caught him doing it once before, and had had to abandon his trip inside that day because the smoke made him dizzy. He scrambled to his knees and slid over to the edge of the cabinet, the farmer was facing away from him, towards the colourful box that spit a poor approximation of music and played other people having sex. He was distracted, the window might be open how it was last time. This was Jiyong’s chance. 

He grabbed his makeshift grappling hook and sprinted for the roll of paper. It took his shaking hands four tries to hook it into the paper. Every almost-but-not-quite throw clanged painfully down the side of the cabinet and terrified Jiyong, but after the paper hooked it pulled down easily. It took him longer than usual to climb the paper, on account of his drowsy state and the general weakness that lying prone under a dirty cabinet for weeks had brought him. He had to stop in the middle, fingers digging into the paper and leaving marks. He didn’t care like he usually would. Jiyong was never entering this deathtrap again. He was getting out, hibernating, and then fleeing home to his mother. He stared fearfully at the farmer as he swayed in the balance. His entire life was on the line and he couldn’t muster the strength to pull himself further up. Luckily for him the farmer was engrossed in inhaling his foul smelling smoke. 

Jiyong blinked slowly. His eyelids felt like glue. His head dipped and the floor below swam arrogantly before his eyes. His grip loosened. So this was the end. Jiyong tried to peel his sticky eyes open, succeeding only momentarily. The last thing he saw as his grip failed him was the farmer switching the noise block to black before stretching out of his seat slowly. The foggy air rushed past him. Jiyong hit the hard ground with a groan and an ‘oh _shit_ ,’ before sleep took him away from his painfully bruised body.


	2. And You’re a Renegade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m not happy with this per say, but uni’s started again and I have less time to work on it so I’m posting it now bc I don’t wanna make yous wait, hope you guys like it :) sry it’s not as good as it could be  
> Comments & constructive crit are life food ! Love yous <3<3<3  
> (Also I uploaded this one on my tablet so PLEASE tell me if there are formatting issues)

Jiyong was warm... And fuzzy. If this was death, he didn’t mind it. He pushed his face into the warmth and wretched his blankets further up over his head. They were so soft. Wait…. blankets? Jiyong was pretty sure there wouldn’t be blankets if he were dead. He peeled his eyelids back, blearily blinking to force the sleep out his eyes. The light snuck in through cracks in his haven to assault him, causing his face to scrunch up in defense. He groaned, blocked out the offender with the soft cotton, and rolled over. 

‘Oh. You’re awake huh?’ 

Jiyong flinched and accidentally smacked himself in the face. ‘Owww,’ he moaned, rolling over to sooth his sore face against his blanket. 

‘Are you going to come out?’ There was that voice again, deep and smooth- like the honey they brought out for the Sabbaths in the court. Couldn’t it just let him be dead in peace? Jiyong shuddered and felt the warm tears begin to trickle down his face. The court, his  _ mum _ . He would never see them again. Fuck. Being dead  _ sucked _ . ‘Or, are you just going to keep hiding?’ The shadow of something gigantic loomed over his head. Jiyong let a yelp slip and scrambled out from under his blanket.  He didn’t get very far before he slipped on his heel and slid down the curve of the bowl he was in, landing harshly on his butt . Jiyong’s eyes darted back and forth, looking for the threat. He grasped the cotton as a defense to his fear, then dropped them in disgust when he realised what his ‘blankets’ really were. 

‘Socks? I’ve been sleeping in someone’s smelly old socks?!’ He glared in distaste, kicking the edge of one away from him. Jiyong pulled himself up with the edge of the bowl and slipped ungracefully over the smooth edge, legs akimbo. He landed unsteady and stumbling; his lower half had refused to wake with the rest of him. 

‘Woah now. Slow down. You hit the ground pretty hard earlier. And the socks are  _ clean _ , I’ll have you know.’ Jiyong’s knees gave way as he let go of the bowl. He tipped sideways and landed just wrong on all the bruised parts of his body. The bowl partially obscured his vision, but he could still see the farmer’s grinning face propped up on the edge of the table. Jiyong swallowed a yawn, too tired to feel afraid even with the giant attempted murderer sitting across from him. The farmer drummed his fingers along the edge of the table while Jiyong struggled into a seated position. He overestimated and pitched himself back into the side of the bowl. ‘You need a hand?’ The farmer inquired. The ceramic was chilly against Jiyong’s face, icing life back into his sleepy brain.

‘No, no. I’m good’ Jiyong mumbled, waving a hand dismissively as he pressed his overheated cheek against the bowl. ‘Just tired.’

‘I can tell,’ the farmer chuckled. ‘So, uh,’ he glances sideways, towards the ground, discomfort laced into his brows, ‘what, uh, what exactly  _ are _ you? I mean,’. The anxious tapping started up again, ‘are you even real? Or did I just drink too much wine because-’, he gestured vaguely towards Jiyong, ‘because when I saw you lying prone on the ground I thought I was going crazy…’ his gaze switched away from Jiyong, searching the room. ‘Oh god, am I going crazy?’ The man pulled at his hair and flicked his wild, curious eyes back to Jiyong, waiting for an answer.

‘What’s your name?’

‘What?’ 

‘Well you can’t just demand answers from me, when I don’t even know what you’re ca lled.’ Jiyong huffed. He crossed his arms, trying to look fierce. If he got this idiots name then he could use the control to demand to be released. Plus, he could make him leave out food for Jiyong in the long run. It was foolproof.

‘Uh, well,,, my friends call me,,, Tempo.’ Dammit. There goes Jiyong’s escape plan. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would pass out before the human made an attempt on his life, there’d be less pain that way. ‘-d you?’

‘What?’ It was Jiyong’s turn to look confused, he’d missed the first half of the sentence.

‘And you? What’s your name? Little one.’

‘Oh, uh, you can call me G-Dragon.’ Jiyong threw out quickly. ‘But do  _ not _ call me little one. Dick.’ He muttered the end of his sentence into his sleeve, the soft fabric helping him calm his annoyance.

‘That’s not your name is it?’ The man-  _ Tempo _ , frowned, clearly unhappy with his evasive answer.

‘Is Tempo yours?’

‘Touché’.

Jiyong loathed to ask the man for any favours- how could he be trustworthy when he’d tried to kill Jiyong plenty of times with his evil traps? But he didn’t see a way out of this without his help. Jiyong had to try, ‘Listen, uh, Tempo. I have about fifteen minutes before I pass out again, and I would really appreciate it if you could lift me to your window so I could get home before that happens.’ He stuck a hand out to be pulled up from his position slumped against the bowl. 

‘You live nearby? Why are you so tired? Are you sick?!’ Jiyong narrowed his eyes. Tempo was asking a lot of questions, there was no time, but Jiyong doubted that dodging them would work. He would just ask again and again and run down the clock before Jiyong’s body demanded sleep. Jiyong dropped his arm with a huff. The same man who had tried to viciously murder him, was looking at him like a kicked puppy. He seemed genuinely stricken at the idea Jiyong’s stomach turned. How good at acting was this human?

‘Yes. And I need to get home fast, so I can hibernate.’ Telling him that much was okay. Either Tempo would help him or not, but Jiyong needed to get out of here in time for him to scramble together to make a makeshift nest. If he didn’t manage that much, he would die from the cold for sure. Jiyong hoisted himself up onto his wobbly legs and stared Tempo in the eyes ferociously, hands planted firmly on his hips. ‘Well? Are you going to help me or not?’ Tempo laid out his hand flat on the table, palm up. Jiyong stumbled over to it, knees weak. He grabbed Tempo’s thumb for support.

‘I- well, uh. Are you  _ sure  _ you’re okay to walk? You don’t seem very steady. Where is your house? I can take you there.’ Jiyong was going to argue. He didn’t need this treacherous human knowing where he lived, but then his legs gave out. He crumpled into Tempo’s soft palm with an ‘oof’. He didn’t want to accept the help, but he was out of options. If the human- if  _ Tempo _ wanted to kill him he could have by now. Jiyong was literally in the palm of his hand. He could have just left Jiyong on the floor to die, or killed him while he was asleep. And there was no way Jiyong was making it to the hedge on his own. The cold would kill him if he fell asleep on the way, which was getting more likely by the second. 

‘The hedge.’ Jiyong said reluctantly, sulking down, hunched over his knees. He stifled a yawn.

‘You live where-now.’ 

Jiyong glanced up at this, about to ask if he was stupid, but Tempo looked thoroughly unimpressed, so instead Jiyong froze, bewitched by the intensity of his stare, and stutted quietly, ‘The hedge.. I- uh, I live in the hedge.’

‘Do you have family there? To look after you?’ When Jiyong shook his head, glancing down, the distained look on Tempo’s face softened. ‘Or even just something to keep you warm, while you do your sleeping thing?’ 

Jiyong glared at his clasped hands.  _ ‘No _ . But it’s not like I have anywhere else to stay!’ He exploded. ‘And I was  _ supposed to  _ spend the last two weeks building my nest but  **_you_ ** had to go and lock your stupid window!’ He threw his arms up angrily and slapped them down onto the palm of Tempo’s hand in frustration. His anger was only slightly dampened by the yawn that stole the start of his next sentence, ‘-ill you take me or not?’ 

‘Like this? No. No way.’ He shook his head sharply. Jiyong stared at Tempo in despair. Maybe the human did want him dead, and had been delighting in toying with him while he was helpless. Seeing the look on Jiyong’s face, Tempo quickly expelled, ‘You’re staying here. With me.’ Jiyong blinked slowly, partially because he was fighting off the next wave of sleep, partially out of shock. 

‘What?’ He mumbled into the side of Tempo’s thumb, barely loud enough to hear.

Tempo stared at him deadpan, like he was the stupid one. ‘You’ll stay here. I can certainly house someone as tiny as you. You’re in no state to go back home anyway. Plus, you did say this was my fault. So, I’m sorting my mistake.’

Jiyong fixed him with a suspicious stare, but Tempo radiated sincerity. Jiyong could feel his eyelids drooping down without his consent. He had run out of time. ‘...Fine.’ He relented. Tempo’s face split into a wide grin. Jiyong had about three seconds to add vehemently, ‘But no socks!!’ before he passed out on Tempo’s wide palm.

JiYong woke up tucked into a box twice the size of him, wrapped in the frayed sleeve of a soft jumper. He rubbed a hand over his face. A glance over the cardboard edge of the box revealed he was in Tempo’s bedroom. The human was nowhere in sight, and, apparently, also a slob. The duvet had been shucked down carelessly, pillows in a disarray and clothing littered the floor. He’d seen it before, on his daring ventures into the house for fabric, but seeing it from his vantage point on the bedside table littered with mugs really put into perspective just how messy it was.

Jiyong was both relieved and aggravated at his absence; his rumbling stomach was continuously cursing at him to satiate its hunger. The weeks he had spent starving under the kitchen counter meant he wasn’t able to settle into his hibernation properly. Not to mention, he still didn’t trust the human. ‘ _ Tempo _ ’, he thought with a sneer. It wasn’t his name- if it was Jiyong would have been granted power over him instantaneously and this whole sucky horrific ordeal would have been resolved. No. Instead, because he chose to lie; Jiyong was stuck sleeping in the home of a man who tried to kill him, relying on him for food and security while he slept. Security that he’d apparently been getting from a shoe box. Ew. He stared at the peeling white label in disgust. He could have at least been put in a box that had held attractive shoes. These boots were,,,  _ distasteful _ at best. 

He braced himself against the side of the box. Even climbing over the side was exhausting. Where was the human? He needed to eat. Making it down the bedside table all the way into the kitchen seemed far too daunting for his weary brain to comprehend. He sucked in a large breath, and yelled at the top of his lungs, ‘HUMAN! ARE YOU THERE?!’

‘Woah little man, there’s no need to shout.’ Tempo slumped round the corner with a chuckle, his socked feet catching as he dragged them against the hardwood floor. ‘I was coming back, just getting some coffee.’ He gestured to the mug he had clutched to his chest. Tempo’s bright hair was sticking out of the hood of his jumper at all angles, and his eyes were hooded over the steaming mug he was holding, ‘and the name’s Se-‘, He coughed awkwardly, ‘...Tempo, not ‘human.’ He slouched over to the bed and collapsed clumsily, holding his mug straight in a practiced manner to keep it from spilling. 

Jiyong huffed, crossing his arms and muttering, ‘whatever. Not like it matters.’ He turned to face the box, sulking.

‘Okay then, ‘Not Human’, what was it you were shouting me down for?’ Jiyong spun round indignantly to see Tempo smirking at him, propped up on his elbow, looking for all the worlds like he couldn’t be more amused.

‘That’s just rude’ Jiyong uncrossed his arms to put his hands on his hips, his foot tapping.

‘Well, it’s not like I know what you are and,’ Tempo paused to sip his drink, ‘You can’t snub my name to call me ‘human’ and expect me not to return the favour y’know.’ Tempo fixed him with a piercing stare.

Jiyong refused to break eye contact, even though it was uncomfortable. Tempo didn’t flinch or look away. Jiyong kicked at the ground, annoyed at losing. ‘Are you really that stupid?’ He grumbled.

He gestured down his body as Tempo raised a brow and uttered, ‘Excuse me?’ 

Jiyong grinned cheekily, looking up and wagging a finger towards him, ‘You’re excused- but don’t do it again.’ Tempo snorted into his coffee with a chuckle. ‘I’m a fairy. Duh.’ He walked to the edge of the table and sat down, swinging his legs over the side. ‘And a starving one at that.’ He said pointedly.

‘A fai- a  _ what _ ?’ Tempo choked then spluttered, coffee dripping out his left nostril. ‘Fairy’s don’t exist.’

‘Well explain me then.’ Jiyong scrambled to his feet. ‘Food. Now. Let’s go.’ He snapped his fingers between Tempo and the table surface.

‘You could ask a little more politely.’ Tempo muttered before putting his hand palm up on the table for Jiyong to climb onto. 

In the kitchen, Jiyong had fallen asleep wrapped around the mug of lukewarm coffee that Tempo set down on the counter. He was roused by the smell of food, and looked over to see Tempo standing over a large metal bowl. He settled back into the warmth of the mug and watched through barely slitted eyes until Tempo dropped a bowl in front of him with a ‘You’re kind of adorable when you aren’t being a little shit.’ Jiyong cracked an eye open and glared at him. He used the mug handle to pull himself up, and wandered over to the pot with all the posts. 

‘You should give me these posts and some twine. I could make a much better bed than your shoe box.’ He said as he pulled one free.

‘Posts? Those are toothpicks.’

Toothpicks?’ Jiyong questioned, looking at the wooden pick as he walked closer to Tempo and the bowl. 

‘Yeah, you use them to pick your teeth when there’s food stuck in them.’ 

Jiyong’s face scrunched up in distaste. ‘I used to think you humans were fascinating, but you’re truly disgusting.’ He muttered. ‘Hand out.’ Jiyong stated.

‘What? Why? The foods right there.’

‘I need to show you something.’ Tempo laid his palm flat on the table, waiting for Jiyong to crawl onto it. Jiyong didn’t move, just smiled sweetly at him, before raising the toothpick above his head and stabbing it into the hand full force. 

‘Oi!’ Tempo recoiled his hand, more in shock than pain. ‘What was that for?!’

Jiyong shifted his weight to one leg, disinterestedly inspecting the end of the toothpick, ‘That’s what you get for calling me a little shit. What did I ever do to you?’ 

‘You stabbed me in the hand!’ Tempo was cradling his hand to his chest.

‘Oh, stop being dramatic. It’s not like I could hurt you even if I wanted to.’ Jiyong sauntered over to the bowl, his face smug. He used a hand to pull some of the soft grains off the pile and hissed in pain. He clutched his hand to his chest, paralleling Tempo’s earlier actions, blowing on his fingers. ‘Could have warned me.’ He side eyed Tempo before turning his attention back to his sore fingers.

Tempo had the audacity to laugh. ‘And where’s the fun in that huh?’ Jiyong’s shoulders slumped forward in defeat. He turned to look at Tempo and pouted, putting on his best sad face. ‘Oh, no no.’ Tempo laughed at him. He _laughed._ At _him_! Jiyong should stab him in the hand again. ‘You get no sympathy from me. Not after you stabbed me in the hand and called me dramatic.’ Jiyong scowled at him. Eyes dark and stormy under his brows. Tempo laughs again, louder this time. ‘Look at that! Turn out you can be cute even when you’re being a little shit.’ Jiyong was _definitely_ going to stab him again. ‘Now eat your rice ‘G-Dragon’.’ Tempo chuckled, at himself or the name Jiyong wasn’t sure. He bristles in annoyance, turning back to the bowl. Maybe he would aim for the human’s eyes next time. See If he’s still laughing then.


End file.
